


I've Got You Now

by ErinisMagic



Series: Teenage Dadvid!AU [1]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Adoption, Child Abandonment, Fluff, Gen, baby!Max, teenage!David
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 08:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11756388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinisMagic/pseuds/ErinisMagic
Summary: David knew that life could be unpredictable, but that didn't mean he wasn't still surprised when it threw it's biggest surprise yet at him.So he had a kid now. That's cool.





	I've Got You Now

**Author's Note:**

> So I absolutely fell in love with [@directium](http://directium.tumblr.com)'s [Teenage Dadvid!AU](http://directium.tumblr.com/tagged/Teenage-Dadvid-AU), and there was no way I was going to let this story go unwritten. These babs are just too cute!

 

David was trudging home from school far later than he would have liked. It was already dark out, and the air had taken on a particular nighttime chill. He was tired and hungry and really looking forward to making it back home so he could just relax. Tomorrow was the day before Thanksgiving, and the school was nice enough to start their long weekend there—he could, and would, be sleeping until noon.

He hadn't planned on today being so long. The main reason he'd been kept out so late was because of an annoying snafu that had happened with the kid he tutored. David was good at earth science, so he had begun tutoring one of the kids in his class who needed some extra help to earn a little extra cash. Usually it went fine, but today hadn't worked out as planned. Their scheduled time to meet was at three o'clock in the library, but today the kid didn't show up. He waited for about half an hour, but still nothing. When he called the kid to try to find out what was up, he was frustrated to learn that he had known he was going to be late and hadn't told him.

“Sorry,” the kid had said, not sounding all that apologetic, “I'll be there by four.” He hadn't shown up until after 4:30, and David spent the next two hours explaining and re-explaining the same concept to the kid, because he just wasn't listening. It was a little past seven by now, and he really just wanted to be home.

He'd gotten over the weirdness of calling Mr. Campbell's house home a while ago. From the moment he had started living there until now, he was so grateful to his hero that he allowed him to live there. His parents had been... not great, and Mr. Campbell had caught him trying to live at Camp Campbell after the summer was over. Rather than sending him back to his family, he had taken him in. He said he needed someone to look after the house while he was away. It was a little difficult sometimes—Mr. Campbell was away more days than he was home, often disappearing for months at a time. He would leave David with a couple hundred dollars in cash and trust him to take care of himself. It was hard at first, but David had gotten used to it.

Speaking of taking care of himself, David had been planning on going shopping this afternoon. He was starting to get low on food, and wanted to get more before he ran out completely. However, he was far too tired to go to the store as he trudged down the street. He told himself that he'd get to it tomorrow.

David nearly jumped out of his skin when he heardsomething screech in the dumpster he just passed by. He whirled around to face it, but the sound stopped before he could really work out what had made it. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. It was probably just a raccoon or something.

He was about to turn around and continue on his way home, but a tug in his heart stopped him. Maybe he was just imagining things, but the poor thing had sounded distressed. David frowned and peered into the shadows. The dumpster lid was closed. Was the raccoon trapped? He sighed; he couldn't just leave it stuck in there.

He took a few steps over and turned into the alley. A cold wind picked up and he shivered, drawing his arms in closer to him to try to stay warm. It felt unreasonably cold that night, even for late November, and he was looking forward to getting back home, even if it was empty. And lonely.

He opened the lid of the dumpster, hoping the raccoon would realize he was trying to be nice and not attack him, and froze solid. It wasn't a raccoon that had gotten trapped in the dumpster.

It was a baby.

The little boy, he assumed, couldn't have been more than a few days old. He was wearing a thin white onesie and a tiny blue hat that couldn't contain his already huge mass of curly black hair, halfheartedly wrapped in a stained hospital blanket. He turned his brilliant green eyes up to David and let out another cry, reaching up as though he might be able to grab him.

David let out a shaky breath, staring at the baby. He reached down, hands trembling, to carefully pick him up. He whimpered and squirmed in David's arms, but didn't cry again. David stared for a few moments longer, shock short-circuiting his thoughts. Then, like a switch was flipped, the need for action flooded over him.

First things first, the boy was far too cold. David wrapped his blanket closer around him, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. With a bit of juggling, he managed to unzip his jacket enough to tuck the baby against his chest, zipping it back up to the boy's neck. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

Now what? His first thought was to go to the police, to report the case of child abandonment and find a home to take the boy in, but something stopped him. He had no idea what sorts of questions the police might ask, and any digging into him or his personal life could result in disaster. There was a reason Mr. Campbell always told him to never trust a cop. Besides, Mr. Campbell had taken him in when his parents failed him; maybe this was the universe's way of telling him to pay it forward.

Oh God, what was he thinking? Was he seriously considering keeping the kid? There was no way he could do that; he was only fourteen! He'd learned how to take care of himself, more or less, but a baby?

Against his shoulder, David felt the baby give a small yawn, his tiny fist grabbing a handful of David's shirt, and he melted. There was no way he was going to be the third person to give up on this kid before he was even old enough to know what was going on. This boy was staying with him, and that was final.

Well, if he was going to be taking care of him, there were a lot of things David needed to get. He started to compile a list in his mind: diapers, bottles, baby formula, clothes, a crib, a stroller, a pacifier, bibs... David bit his lip. He still had a fair chunk of the money Mr. Campbell had left him, but it was nowhere near enough to pay for all of that.

There was a 24-hour CVS that he passed every day on his way home, he could get at least some of the things there. The rest would have to wait until tomorrow when he could get to a Target or a Babies-R-Us. Shifting his grip on the baby—he was going to need a name, and preferably soon—to be a little more secure, David started making his way down the street.

Thankfully, it wasn't far to the store. David slipped inside, peeling back the collar of his jacket to check on the baby. He seemed to have fallen asleep; that was good. David grabbed a basket and moved further into the store, checking out the aisle markers. Health & Beauty... Personal Care... Baby. There.

David walked into the aisle and immediately felt overwhelmed. There were so many things! Special soaps and shampoos and lotions; baby towels and washcloths; monitors and nightlights and white noise makers. Would he need all of these?

David set the basket on the floor and grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket, flipping it open to check how much cash he had on him. Luckily he had originally planned on going shopping this afternoon, before that whole tutoring fiasco happened, so he'd brought a decent amount of cash with him. That plus the money he'd earned tutoring just barely paid for two packs of diapers, two tins of baby formula, a bottle, and a package of baby wipes.

David pressed his lips together worriedly as he watched the total rise. He was only getting six things, half of them were on sale, and they cost almost $50. How on earth was he going to afford all the rest of it?

For some reason, the cashier didn't question why a fourteen-year-old was out at night with a newborn baby and seemingly nothing to take care of him. David thanked her as he dropped his change into one of the bags, scurrying out of the store before someone else could notice his situation.

David's fingers were stiff from the cold by the time he got home. He struggled a bit as he dug his keys out of his pocket. The lock on the door took a bit of effort to get open, but he managed. He shouldered the door open, the movement startling the baby awake. He let out a sharp cry against David's shoulder. David hushed him as he hurried inside, rubbing his back until he calmed down.

The inside of the house was still a little chilly, as far as interior temperatures go, but it was a significant improvement from outside. David slid his shoes off at the door and made his way into the family room, pausing at the thermostat to turn up the heat. He gently laid the baby down on the sofa so he could drop his bags and take off his jacket.

The boy whined a bit, and David realized how uncomfortable he must be. He picked him up, wondering what to take care of first. He had to be hungry, but he also really needed to be cleaned—he stank of garbage and his diaper definitely needed changing. David figured that that took precedence.

He grabbed the wipes and a pack of diapers, tucking them under his arm so he could carry them and the baby to the upstairs bathroom. He set the items down next to the sink and turned to look at the tub. It seemed like an awfully big bathtub for such a tiny baby.

He stared at the bathtub for a moment before inspiration struck. There was a plastic tub in the pantry downstairs. Mr. Campbell used it to hold drinks when he had guests over, but David figured it would double well enough as a bathtub for the boy.

It didn't even take a full minute for David to get the tub and come back upstairs. He set it under the faucet in the bathtub to start filling it. He rolled up his sleeve and stuck his arm into the water to test the temperature. He felt rather like Goldie Locks—the water couldn't be too hot or too cold, it had to be just right. After fiddling with the knobs for a moment, he found what he thought was a good temperature: just warm enough to be comfortable. He turned the water off when it got to be about half-full, since it looked like that would be enough for the baby.

He pulled off the boys dirty clothes, fighting down a gag at the smell from his diaper, and tried to lower the boy into the water, but he was having none of it. He cried loudly, flailing his arms and legs in protest. David pulled him back, shushing him a bit. Once he had calmed down, he tried again. Same result.

He pulled him out again, wondering what to do. The boy obviously needed to be washed, but how could he do that if he refused to be in the water?

As a compromise, David reached into the cabinet and grabbed a washcloth. He dipped it into the water and experimentally placed it on the boy's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind it, so he ran it down his arm, getting at least some of the dirt off. He fell into a rhythm after that, dunking the washcloth in the tub and slowly cleaning the boy up. Every so often he would come across a particularly difficult patch of grime, accidentally scrubbing too hard in an attempt to wash it off; the baby gave him short cries of complaint whenever he did that, and David always apologized profusely, as if the boy actually knew what he was saying.

Once he was all clean, David grabbed a new washcloth to dry him off. He grabbed the package of diapers, flipping it around in his hand to see if there were instructions on how to put it on printed anywhere. It took a few tries before he was able to get one on properly.

Now that the baby had been all cleaned up, David needed to find something to dress him in. There was no way he was putting him back in that filthy white onsie, but he didn't have any baby clothes, either. The only thing he could think to do was to use one of his own shirts temporarily, just until he could get something better.

He brought the baby up into his room and set him down on the bed while he searched through his draws. The boy started whimpering not long after he was put down—David figured he must be hungry, or cold. Or both. “It's okay,” he said soothingly, “just give me one second and then I can take care of you.”

The smallest thing he had was his Camp Campbell T-shirt from when he was a kid. Of course, it was still far too big for a baby, but it was better than nothing. “Okay,” David said, finding some way to dress/wrap the boy in the shirt. It was far from perfect, but it was good enough. “That's at least a little better, right?”

The baby squirmed a bit, kicking out his tiny feet as David pulled him into his arms to hold him properly. “You're going to need a name, little guy,” he whispered, running a finger over the boy's soft cheeks. The first name that came to mind was Cameron, after Mr. Campbell, but that didn't seem to fit at all. Maybe Jasper? No, still too soon. Uh, Jason? Keith? Mark? “How about Max?” The boy reached out and wrapped a tiny hand around David's finger. “Yeah? Do you like that? Max?”

Max's face scrunched up adorably, and David couldn't resist giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. “What do you say, then; time for dinner now?”

He carried Max back downstairs, grabbing his discarded clothes out of the bathroom to throw in the wash. They weren't great, but they were all he had in terms of actual baby clothes; he'd need them for at least a few more days.

The bags from CVS were still in the family room. David pulled out the bottle he had bought and one of the tins of baby formula, bringing them into the kitchen and setting them down on the counter before realizing he had no idea what the right way to feed a baby was. Well, then, to Google.

Four Google searches and twenty-five frustrating minutes later, David finally got Max to take the bottle. He let out a sigh of relief, cradling the baby close as he drank. “There you go,” he whispered as Max made quick work of the bottle. “You sure are hungry, huh? How long were you in there?” His heart ached at the thought of the poor boy being stuck in the dumpster for hours before he came along. Surely he must have been crying; how had no one else heard him? Or had other people heard, but chosen not to help? He felt like crying, himself. Who could have done that to an innocent baby?

Max finished the bottle quicker than David expected. He set it down on the counter, freeing up both of his hands to give the baby a light burp. He threw the bottle into the dishwasher and put it on; it wasn't quite full yet, but he knew that he'd need the bottle again in the morning.

Now that Max had been fed, David also needed dinner. He was running a little low on actual food, but he didn't want to spend time really cooking right now anyway. He peeked into the cabinets, looking for something quick to make, and grabbed a packet of ramen. He set it down on the counter, trying to think of what to do with Max while he ate. He couldn't cook with a baby in his arms; he needed to put him down somewhere.

After a moment, he decided to set Max down on the arm chair in the family room. It should be comfortable enough, and it was right next to the kitchen, so he would be right there, just in case. He carried Max in and laid him down, giving his hand a feather-light squeeze before he left.

The second he was out of sight, Max started shrieking. David jumped and immediately hurried back to the boy. “Hey, what's the matter?” he whispered, kneeling down in front of the chair and gently resting a finger on the boy's chest. Not surprisingly, he continued crying. “Aw, c'mere,” David cooed as he slid his hands under the baby's back, one hand cupping the back of his head. He shushed him softly, lifting him to his shoulder and bouncing him a little. He tried to think if there was anything he'd forgotten to do. Max had been fed and changed; what else did he need?

After a moment, Max quieted. David smiled—all he had wanted was a little attention. “Better?” he questioned lightly, rubbing his thumb over Max's soft curls.

He held Max for a minute more before leaning forward a bit to put him back down. As soon as David's hands left him, his cries started up again. “It's okay, Max, I'm right here,” David said, picking him up again.

Once he was safely back in David's arms, Max started to calm down. David sighed. “If I put you down, will you start crying again?” He pulled him away from his shoulder and rested him on the cushion. He hadn't even pulled his hands away before Max started whimpering. “Okay, okay,” he said, bringing the baby back up to his shoulder. “I guess you'll be cooking with me, then.”

He was pretty sure that cooking while holding a baby was one of the worst things he could be doing, but he didn't have it in him to come up with any creative solutions at the moment. At least it was only ramen; he'd just be extra careful, and it'd be fine. Probably.

Luckily, they made it trough dinner without any injuries. David poured the noodles into a bowl and brought it into the family room, half curling up on the couch. He leaned Max against his knees while he ate, and the baby stared at him uncomfortably the whole time.

Once he was done, David grabbed a pen and paper and started compiling a list of all of the things he would need. He tried to sort them in order of importance, from things he would need right away to things he could probably do without for a few weeks. He had no idea exactly how much any of the things cost, but it was a really long list and he was worried about how he was going to afford it all. At least Black Friday was coming up, although he doubted it would be a good idea to go with Max. Maybe he could leave him with one of the neighbors for the afternoon.

Before he realized it, Max had fallen asleep, and he found himself yawning every couple of minutes. The day was starting to catch up to him, and even though he'd usually be up for at least two more hours, now all he wanted to do was go to bed.

As he made his way up to his room, David didn't think he'd ever been more grateful to not have school in the morning. There was just so much he needed to do, so much he needed to wrap his head around. This night alone was already weighing down on him—it was barely nine o'clock, but he was already exhausted.

He set Max down at the top of the bed before quickly changing into his pajamas and sliding under the covers. The little boy was still sound asleep, but despite his fatigue, David was wide awake. In the street light filtering in through his window, he watched the steady rise and fall of Max's chest. It was as comforting as it was terrifying.

Could he really do this? Babies were a huge responsibility, and some adults even struggled to take care of them; he was only fourteen. He was just a freshman in high school. He had a hard enough time taking care of himself, let alone a baby. He sighed, resting a finger on Max's tiny palm. The little boy closed his hand around it reflexively, almost like he was trying to comfort him. David smiled. Things would turn out alright, he reassured himself. They had to be.

“Everything's going to be okay,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb along the back of Max's hand. “Daddy's here, Daddy's got you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, friends! If you're a first-time reader, welcome! If you read my other Camp Camp fic, welcome back! I know I said I was working on a sequel for that--and I promise I am--but the words are just not coming to me. So until I get un-blocked from that fic, enjoy this one!
> 
> Obviously David's doing quite a bit wrong in terms of child care, but he's trying! I mean, he's only fourteen; he just needs some time to learn.


End file.
